Puzzles
by Twinings
Summary: At Arkham, not even the doctors are sane.
1. The 1st

Disclaimer: I don't own it. October is my favorite month.

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Case 1: E. Nigma

10/01

Despite lack of violent tendencies, the patient has been heavily sedated. Several escape attempts have already been made. Multiple escapes have been made during previous incarcerations. Physical inferiority is the only reason we are able to keep him here. Probably the only reason he is ever captured at all.

Will make further study. Potential very good. This is my prime candidate.


	2. The 7th

10/07

Have been given ample opportunity to study the patient at length. He displays extremely high intelligence, coupled with obsessive tendencies. High potential, indeed. He's obsessed with puzzles. Calls himself the Riddler. Is it word games only, or does his interest extend to all puzzles?

Will find out. Should be most interesting either way.


	3. The 8th

10/08

When the patient entered my office, he was both sedated and restrained by a straitjacket. For my purposes, that certainly wouldn't do.

The setup made him quite anxious, as I knew it would.

The obsession _does_ extend to all puzzles. Seeing the unfinished jigsaw puzzle on my desk and being unable to finish it was sheer torture. I allowed this to go on for a few minutes while asking a variety of questions to which I already knew the answers. He never lied, although he did is best to avoid answering truthfully. Interesting. He left it up to me to solve the riddles, perhaps believing that if I was unable, then I didn't deserve to know the answers anyway. How truly fascinating. Of course, it's easier to solve a riddle when you already know the answer. I was honestly impressed with his ability to come up with so many, so quickly, a question for each of my answers.

This is becoming disorganized. Not my official report, of course, but still, I wish I could keep my personal notes straight. I believe the patient could keep coherent notes if our roles were reversed.

And the one from the box. The perfect geometry of Him. Yes, He could keep His notes organized, if He were inclined to make notes. I wonder if He does.

That would be fascinating reading, wouldn't it?

But, back to the patient.

On the pretext of conducting a physical examination (worried by his apparent malnutrition) I removed the straitjacket. The guards were not pleased. Their objections were noted and dismissed.

When I released the patient, he went immediately to my desk and began work on the jigsaw puzzle. He finished it more quickly than I would have thought possible—especially in light of the guards' efforts to restrain him.

I requested that they let him finish. They relented, but stayed well within range in case of trouble. As per my expectations, he made no attempt to fight or escape while working on the puzzle, and was even cooperative in regards to my questions—that is, he made his riddles so childishly simple that it was obvious that he wanted me to be able to solve them.

When finished with the puzzle, he allowed himself to be restrained again.

Yes, this is the _perfect_ candidate. Perfect.


	4. The 17th

10/17

A dark and stormy night. This would be the perfect time for the experiment. No one ever opens the Gates of Hell on a bright and sunny afternoon.

Not time yet. I'm not ready yet. And Arkham is frightening enough on a dark and stormy night.

I have begun puzzle-based therapy. The patient is responding well. Of course, I don't believe for a minute that this is going to help him, but I have gained a measure of his trust. That's not to say that he trusts me, or has any reason to. But as I said, he has become more responsive. To me.

The shadows in this place are getting to me. The thunder and lightning. The haunted atmosphere. I'm actually frightened. How did that happen? I should go home.

But I do my work here. All of it.

_Never_ mix business and pleasure.

I'm beginning to wonder if the experiment is really business…or pleasure. What is He, really?

Not something you'd want to take home to Mother.

I'm going home. I'll finish this tomorrow. Bad night. Bad vibes.


	5. The 18th

10/18

A bright and sunny morning. I'm ashamed of myself for having such fears last night. Dark thoughts, guilty conscience, something _else…_

It doesn't matter. I _will_ go through with it.

I have begun puzzle-based therapy. The patient is responding well.

All puzzles are interesting to him. Further, he is under some compulsion to solve them. Supremely useful to me. Jigsaw puzzles, crossword puzzles, missing square puzzles…

Puzzle boxes.

A while longer. A few more days. Maybe I'll do it on Halloween. Wouldn't that be nice? Yes, Halloween.

No suspicion will be cast on me, if the experiment fails. It will simply be one more puzzle. One more part of the therapy.


	6. The 22nd

10/22

The patient becomes increasingly responsive. We make a pretense of enjoying each other's company. He puts up with me because I bring him puzzles. Occasionally I even bring him something that poses him a challenge.

I put up with him because he is my link to Him. The anticipation is nerve wracking. Halloween may not be the right choice. Too melodramatic, and perhaps too long a wait.

Am I ready or am I not? Today I'm ready. Tomorrow, probably not.

The patient shows no evidence of suspicion, for all his intelligence. Neither do my superiors.

The time is drawing near.


	7. The 27th

10/27

I meant to record my progress with the patient. Have been noticing increasing disorganization in my thought processes. I meant to make organized notes. I meant to do this right.

I tried to solve the puzzle myself. I couldn't do it. I've seen Him before. Now all I want is Him. He fills my darkest thoughts and dreams. Why can't I solve it?

Never mind. The patient will solve it for me. The patient will bring Him to me.

I will know the greatest pleasure imagined by any, human or otherwise. And I will know suffering, yes.

I can hear that word on His lips. Suffering.

Pleasure.

Flesh.

I want it.


	8. The 28th

10/28

My patient is a mad genius. I feel no pity for him. I feel no remorse.

I went out last night and picked up a boy at a bar. He couldn't have been more than nineteen. He was terrified of me, but magnificently attracted. Aggressive sexuality can do that. And leather. And chains. And blood.

If only he could see me now. Everyone looks mild-mannered in a business suit.

Of course, that boy can't see me anymore. Big, blind blue eyes. He was nice while he lasted.

Today, again, I am ready.

Halloween. Yes, Halloween.

I am ready.


	9. The 29th

10/29

The patient senses nothing wrong. Somehow, this disturbs me. He _should_ sense something. I can't believe no one can feel this.

_I_ can hear Them walking behind the walls. I can almost feel Him watching me.

Is madness contagious? I feel quite mad today.

And I am ready.

Perhaps the two feelings are intertwined.

I wonder if the patient is ready. Or would be, if he had any knowledge at all.

Or does he know?

Does he know?

Does _he_ want this?

Damn.

He's just another puzzle I can't solve. Why can't I solve the puzzles?

I want to solve. I want to be more than this. I want my power.

I wish I could hate him. Hate and love have no place here.

Yes, I wish I could love Him.

But that especially has no place in hell.


	10. The 30th

10/30

I am still ready and more than ready. Today. I will do it today.

The box is in my left hand, gleaming with a sinister beauty. No matter how I stroke its curves, it will not open for me. And bashing it against the wall does nothing.

How will the patient respond to it? How long will it take him to solve it?

How are his fingers any different from mine? How are his strokes and caresses any better?

_It is not hands that call Them. It. Is. Desire._

My hands are not enough. My desire will be.


	11. The 31st

10/31

I failed? It failed?! No! No, no, no, no, no, no, NO!!!!!!

He solved the puzzle so quickly I wanted to slit my wrists. He looked up at me, watching through the window in his door, and he smiled at me as he slid the last piece into place. He smiled at me and he slid the last piece into place and then the shadows were absolute. They had been darkening since he began to solve it. Since before. Maybe since I tried it. Maybe before that. Maybe forever.

He slid the last piece into place and everything changed. He looked surprised. Maybe afraid. I didn't have time to see that much. Something heavy slammed down over the window, and I could see nothing. I tried to open the door. There was no way in.

I heard Him inside that room, speaking to the patient, making the promises that should have been mine. And the patient _denied_ him. My idiot patient begged to keep his pathetic life. And then he screamed. The screams went on and on while He laughed and made more promises that I wanted for myself.

The patient screamed himself hoarse in a matter of minutes. No one came to help him. No one heard but me.

The screams went silent, and the last thing I heard was His laugh.

There's so much blood in that room. And nothing else. Just his hot red blood coating every surface. So beautiful. It should have been mine.

I will join Him if I have to use every patient I have to call Him to me.

So many to choose from.

The Joker interests me. He must surely have very skilled hands.

And, perhaps, desire. Yes.


End file.
